


They All Fall Down

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics), DCeased (DC Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Comic: DCeased, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Bruce didn’t destroy Dick and Tim after they infected him with the Anti-Life Equation. Now Damian might be the one who pays the price for the oversight.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 123





	They All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> A DCEASED what-if because I like to hurt myself. Clark and Jon heard Damian’s heartbeat speed up and knew something was wrong. They’d all been silently checking on him during his mourning so they knew where he was. It continues into the normal story from there I imagine. Sorry the end is a little iffy, not sorry for the emotions~ Reminder if you like my stuff, please check out and consider my tumblr (of the same name) for more!

Damian couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. Just held the communicator as tight as possible.

His father had contacted them, told them he was dying. He’d been infected by the Anti-Life Equation, but slowed the spread long enough to call. To say he loved him, he was sorry, and that Alfred was coming.

“But…Bruce, I don’t understand.” Clark was saying, but Damian wasn’t paying attention. He was still trying to _comprehend_. “I mean…I know you have a lot of technology, but surely there’s failsafes…”

“There…are.” Bruce’s breath was labored. “I was attacked.”

“By who?” Clark demanded. “You said Alfred is fine…”

“Dick. Tim.” Bruce wheezed. “And that’s…that’s something else.”

Damian closed his eyes instantly. Grayson was already gone. Drake. And the apocalypse had barely even _started_.

What about everyone else? Todd? Cain? Commissioner Gordon? Did they get calls from Father too? Did they know what was happening? Or were they gone too?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Opened his eyes to see Lois Lane standing next to him, ready to comfort. Jon was behind her, tears in his eyes as he bit his lip.

“…I didn’t kill them.” Bruce whispered. “I…It all happened so fast, and I was too weak. They escaped the manor before Alfred got his shotgun. Before I could go after them.”

Jon gasped, clamped his hand over his mouth. Clark paused, glanced at Damian himself. “…How long ago?”

“Hours.” Bruce admitted. “…Clark, they were heading in the direction of Metropolis.”

“But why?” Lois called. “Why wouldn’t they go into Gotham?”

“Higher population in Metropolis. More people to infect there than Gotham, I imagine. Especially with you all there saving people. Here…” Bruce hesitated. “It’s a bloodbath here already.”

“Father…!” Damian called. Lois’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Alfred will be there soon, Damian. Don’t worry.” Bruce promised. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Damian cried, ignoring the tears already on his face. “Father, please don’t. You always win. You always find a way-”

“Not this time, son. I’m sorry.” And Bruce sounded genuinely apologetic. Like he’d _failed_ at something. “Stay with Clark and Lois, alright? They’ll keep you safe. And they’ll keep Alfred safe when he gets there too.”

Damian sniffed, wiped at his eyes. “…Yes, sir.”

“I love you, Damian. I always have.” Bruce’s breath hitched. “And I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you, too.” Damian whispered. “I love you, too, Father. Thank you for everything. Thank you for loving me too.”

Bruce grunted, and let out a thin wheeze. “Clark. I don’t want him to…the communicator…”

“I’ve got you, Bruce.” Clark murmured. As if Damian would break at the gentlest touch, Clark carefully took the communicator from his hand, and moved to the other side of the rooftop with the other Justice League members who were gathered.

But even with the attempt to get out of his earshot, Damian heard the low rumble of his father screaming in pain. Lois instantly spun him around, embracing him as tight as possible. She held the back of Damian’s head, practically curling around him.

“Don’t listen, sweetheart.” Lois whispered, even as Jon tackled them both from the side. Damian could feel Lois’s own tears dripping into his hair as he clung to her himself. “Just…block it out, okay? Think about…about Alfred. He’ll be here soon. He’ll be here with us soon, and…and…”

Lois rambled for a few minutes, trying anything she could to overpower the sounds that may have carried from the communicator. It didn’t help much, didn’t wipe out the _fact_ of what was happening, even though her voice was louder than the dying of his father, but he appreciated her effort.

About ten minutes later, still cocooned in Lois’s arms, he heard Clark return.

“Alfred will be here by nightfall.” Clark said solemnly. Damian tightened his own grip on Lois.

It was done. His father was dead.

 _Batman_ was dead.

Lois held him for a little while longer, and Jon bounced between checking on them and checking on his own father. Eventually, Damian backed out of her arms, quietly requesting a few moments to himself. She nodded, and gave him a sad smile.

He went to one of the lower roofs of the Daily Planet building. Away from the group, the chatter, the strategizing.

Just a few minutes. That’s all he’d need. A few minutes to cry, to mourn, to grieve. Then he’d be back in the mission. Then he’d go back to saving humanity, like his father and brothers always taught him to.

He thought briefly of his mother. She was in Gotham as well. Did she survive? Did she…need help?

She wasn’t a good person, but if he mentioned it to Clark, maybe Superman would help him go find her.

Would she mourn Bruce? Would she give her condolences for Grayson and Drake? Would she care at all?

He heard a bang as he sat there, the creaking of a ladder, bringing him out of his reverie, back to reality. Figured it was Jon coming to check on him already. How long had he been sitting there? He checked the clock in his mask interface.

Oh. It’d already been an hour.

“…I don’t want to talk about it, Jon.” He called, sitting up a little straighter, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “We have more important things to worry about than-”

There was another stomp, and Damian hesitated. It wasn’t coming from the ladder above him, where Jon would have come from.

It was coming from the fire escape over the ledge in front of him. The one that led to the ground.

“Fuck.” He whispered, scrambling to his feet. He sidestepped towards the ladder that went back to the Justice League, keeping his eye on the roof ledge. He couldn’t take that chance, couldn’t take his eyes off the threat.

Another thump, and then a hand appeared over the side. A gloved hand.

A blue-striped, black gloved hand.

“No…” Damian breathed before he could stop himself. His heart sunk, as a second, bloodier black-and-blue hand joined it. “Oh, please no…”

Dick’s head popped over the ledge, and he snarled like a wild animal, blood flicking away from his face. If you could even call it his face anymore. Skin flapped loosely away from his skull, blood poured like a waterfall from an exposed eye socket. Part of his mouth was missing, and it looked like he was grinning.

And Damian was trained since birth. Under the world’s greatest assassins, under Batman. Under the worst and the best. He trained for moments like this. For scenarios like this. He’d jumped to action in life or death situations before, made decisions at the drop of a hat a million times.

But here, he froze.

“Grayson…” He whispered. Dick’s hands just scrambled on the ledge, like he didn’t know how to climb up. “Grayson…i-it’s me.”

Dick just growled, dragging himself forward, pulling himself onto the roof with his sheer strength.

“Focus!” Damian shouted. “You’ve beaten odds like this before!”

Spit mixed with the blood as it dripped down Dick’s throat. He continued forward, his knee just reaching the ledge. As he did, another hand appeared behind it, slapping to find purchase. A mop of black hair bobbed behind it.

 _Drake_.

Damian’s heart was pounding. What were they doing here? Yes, Batman said they were coming to Metropolis but…to this exact spot? To exactly where he was?

Did they…remember him? Did they come here to find him?

He stepped away from the ladder, towards his brothers.

“Grayson?” He breathed. “Drake?”

Tim gave a shriek, all but flipping himself onto the roof. He stumbled to his knees, but kept his forward momentum. Kept crawling at Damian. Dick shuffled forward, eyes shifting to the roof above them.

Oh, right. The Justice League was up there. A Kryptonian, a Green Lantern, and a bunch of other powerful beings.

Full of _life_.

They weren’t here for him. They didn’t follow _him_. They followed the meat. Followed the power.

He was just in the way.

He swallowed back his tears and risked turning away, looking for his way up. The ladder was a few feet down the wall, further than he originally thought. He’d have to make a break for it.

So he did.

But he was still small, still young. And his brothers always had that height on him. That long stride.

That _speed_.

He took two steps, but Tim was already reaching the ladder with a guttural laugh. Damian tried to back away, but in his periphery, he saw Dick running at him, inhaling into those now-forever empty lungs to roar.

Damian ducked his reaching hands, spun away and tried to put distance between them. He slowed at the ledge they’d climbed, and glanced over. A sea of the Anti-Life zombies were below them, all clamoring for that same fire escape.

He was fucked.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Tim was already rushing back at him, clawed hands aimed at his throat. Dick was right behind him, teeth bared.

Damian dodged to the side.

Those tears he tried to swallow came back full force as he ran to the opposite corner. This was life or death. This was the apocalypse. This was the end, if he wasn’t careful.

But.

He wouldn’t lay a hand on his brothers.

And maybe if he were in a better state of mind, maybe if he hadn’t just listened to his father succumb to this very virus, he would have attempted to take on Drake. Would have tried to fight him, if only out of some semblance of mercy.

But Grayson – never.

Damian could never go against Grayson. Not in the way he needed to save his own life, anyway. 

So he ran. He took the cowardly way out, and he ran.

But even the Flash stumbled sometimes.

He was trying to distract them. Play tag until he could get them away from the ladder he needed, then scramble up it and make his escape.

He’d just sidestepped Tim again, swerved around those outstretched hands, and was taking off towards the other side of the roof. Just a few more passes, a few more laps, and he should have them far enough-

His boot hit a loose piece of tarpaper. His foot slid out to the side, twisting his knee in an awkward angle and throwing him down onto the roof.

And it was over.

He rolled to his back just as Dick’s hand closed around his throat. As Tim dropped onto his legs.

Damian closed his eyes. _It’s okay. It’s okay._ He told himself. _It’ll be over quick. And then I’ll be with them. Then I’ll be with my family anyway-_

**_“No!”_ **

Damian opened his eyes just in time to see Jon dropping out of the sky, ramming into Tim with such speed that it launched him from the building, and into the wall of the next one, splattering him into nothing more than blood and guts, like he was a fly on a windshield.

Damian blinked, and Clark was there too. His face was cold, angry, _terrified_ as he grabbed Dick by his own throat and yanked him away.

Damian coughed as he tried to sit up, Jon instantly at his side, holding his shoulders.

“S-Superman-”

“I’m sorry.” Clark said as he held Dick up in the air. Dick struggled in his hold, hands reaching up to try and loosen his grip. He was still growling, still shrieking. “I’m so sorry, Dick.”

Without preamble, Clark shoved his fist through Dick’s chest, pulling as many bones and organs out the other side as he could. Then he dragged his arm until it exploded out Dick’s side.

Dick went limp. Damian gasped, and, for the second time that afternoon, forgot how to breathe.

Carefully, Clark laid Dick’s remains on the roof. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered again, as he used his heat vision to cremate what was left.

As soon as the last of him was ash, Clark turned back to Damian, whose eyes were practically bulging out if his mask. He was trembling in Jon’s hands, jaw dropped in shock.

“No…” He whispered, even as Clark walked towards them. Tears fell instantly as Clark collapsed to his knees in front of him, pulling him fiercely into his arms. “No…!”

No one mentioned the blood on Clark’s hands. No one mentioned _Dick’s_ _blood_ on Clark’s hands.

“I’m so sorry.” Clark repeated shakily as Damian sobbed into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

Damian just shook his head, his trembles increasing by the second. Clark just squeezed his eyes shut and held the boy tighter.

After a moment, Clark blindly reached out, reeling Jon into his arms as well. Held him just as hard.

(Covered him in Dick’s blood too.)

 _I will not let this virus touch them._ Clark told himself. Silently promised to the children in his arms. _No matter what it takes._

After a few minutes, Clark silently took to the air, returning the boys to the rooftop, and the care of the Leaguers standing there, and Lois. Lois began pulling the boys from his arms before he even landed.

He glanced at Dinah and Oliver, who nodded. He gave them a grim smile and nodded back, floating back over to take care of the hoard at the bottom of the fire escape, and the fire escape itself.

He glanced towards the other building, to see if there was anything left of Tim Drake. There wasn’t.

When he decided the hoard of zombies was sufficiently culled, he went back to the rooftop. Dinah had built the green mockery of an igloo around Lois and the boys, giving them a sense of peace in this new chaos, a moment alone. She opened a sliver of it as he walked towards them, and closed it after.

The world could wait a little bit.

Jon was sitting on Lois’s lap, Damian next to her. She was holding his hand, and he wasn’t shaking anymore.

Dick’s blood had dried, leaving brown splashes all across his skin and uniform.

His eyes looked dead.

Clark sat next to him and tugged him into his side. Damian came willingly.

“Mind if I stay with you?” Clark whispered. “Just until Alfred gets here.”

“…Until Alfred gets here.” Damian repeated with a dry voice. “Okay.”

Clark carefully leaned down, pressing a kiss to Damian’s hair. “I’m so sorry, Damian.”

“I know.” Damian returned softly. “I know, Superman.”

Clark glanced up at Lois, at his own son. Jon’s eyes were half-lidded, he was already so exhausted. There were still tear tracks on Lois’s face, too. He gave them a grim smile.

This was going to be a long apocalypse.


End file.
